Naming Our Fears
by Electric Light Shadow Boxer
Summary: The Twelfth in The Unnamed Series. Picks up after The Tap Out Job. Nathan thinks it’s his turn to take care of Eliot for a change. Now, only if Eliot saw it that way as well.


TITLE: Naming Our Fears

AUTHOR: Electric Light Shadowboxer

RATING: PG-13

CATEGORY: Slash

PAIRING: Nate/Eliot

DISCLAIMER: I do not own, nor am I associated with Leverage. No copyright infringement intended. This little piece of insanity was written for fun, not profit. I make no money. Literally.

SUMMARY: The Twelfth in The Unnamed Series. Picks up after The Tap Out Job. Nathan thinks it's his turn to take care of Eliot for a change. Now, only if Eliot saw it that way as well.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: SPOILERS! For The Tap Out Job. This story depicts grown adult males in a consensual, loving, relationship. If that bothers you, don't read.

* * *

Nate shifted on the chair, muscles aching and tired from the tension running along his spine. On the wall, the clock kept up its incessant ticking, each second weighing heavier on his shoulders than the last. What was taking them so long? It had been almost an hour since they'd taken Eliot away for the scan. A head CT just didn't take that long . . . not unless there were complications.

Nathan took a deep breath and tried to relax back into the chair, but the hard plastic and awkward molding kept him from really settling in.

He scratched at his forehead and stood, pacing the small room. He really didn't like hospitals. He'd always though they smelled bad. Even driving by sometimes he could smell the decay. Inside, the smell of disinfectant and disease settled on his tongue like a thick bearskin rug. There was always the feeling of desperation and despair mixed with a frantic kind of hope that permeated these places.

There was always Sam . . .

A code came over the intercom and Nathan closed his eyes and tried to swallow down the rising panic/despair/pleading that tried to swell through his heart. There was no one there to ground him to bring him back to the task at hand. What if the code was for Eliot! For a moment his senses were overwhelmed by that terrible day. The sights and sounds from the past swamped him, washing away everything from the present, and he was lost. Everything was Sam, Sam, Sam, and it was over. His life was over.

Out in the hall something dropped, metal clanging on the floor, and he gasped, oxygen flooding his deprived lungs as the present rushed to meet him. The onset of fresh air caused his head to spin and he stumbled. Once everything righted itself, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried counting backwards, running through all the reasons why this was different.

Eliot was a grown man. It wasn't like he didn't know what was going to happen. It wasn't like he had expected Nate to save him.

Only . . . Nate was head of the team. It was his job to protect Eliot. This should've never happened. If he'd done his job properly then Eliot wouldn't be in this situation and they'd be long gone from this Nebraskan hellhole.

This wasn't a life threatening disease. This wasn't like what happened with Sam. There wasn't going to be treatments that made him sick and the desperation as hope slowly slid through his fingers. Eliot wasn't going to die from this.

But head trauma could be serious. Eliot could have a bleed, a subdural hematoma. The beating he'd taken had been vicious. He could have a skull fracture that worsened during the night. Eliot might go to sleep and then Nathan might fall asleep and forget to wake him and he could go into a coma.

This was Eliot. This wasn't Sam. This wasn't his son.

Nathan sat back down in the chair, hand going to his stomach to try and soothe the churning there. He loved Eliot. Eliot was . . .

Nathan stood and rushed to the trash receptacle. He heaved, the sour tang of bile burning his throat, his eyes watering, and stomach muscles cramping. When he was finished he leaned his head against the cool wall and panted.

Eliot was family.

He straightened and went to the sink to wash his mouth out. When he had most of the taste rinsed away he stood and grabbed a couple brown paper towels.

There was a noise behind him and he turned, keeping his head down to hide the water on his face that would give him away. They wheeled Eliot back in on the hospital bed and Nate raked his lover over with his eyes, looking for some indication of how he was doing, besides the obvious bruising and swelling. He felt the bile rise again at Eliot's closed eyes and pinched mouth. Nathan waited until they had the bed locked in place before he approached Eliot's side.

The left side of Eliot's face was a mass of red and purple that only deep bruises achieved. His cheek looked like overly ripe fruit that was ready to burst. The swelling lent his face an uneven appearance. It hurt Nathan to look at him.

Eliot looked so pale where the bruises weren't blooming. With both eyes closed he looked so still that Nathan felt his heart trip-hammer in his chest. _This wasn't the same_.

Eliot blinked open his right eye, the left already swollen shut, and licked his lips. The dizziness was bad while sitting still, with the bed moving he'd been doing his best to keep from being sick. Nate grasped his hand, squeezing a little too hard and Eliot blinked through the headache and nausea to notice that Nathan was pale and a little sweaty. Eliot tried to frown, but his face wasn't working right and he had to settle for a thin approximation of his usual glare. "Nate, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Nathan grabbed the chair and sat down without letting go of Eliot's hand. "How're you doing?"

Eliot ran his tongue over the cut in his lip tasting the copper of torn skin and blood. He took a moment to examine his lover a little closer. The collar of his shirt and the hair around his face were damp. He'd been around Nathan when he was sick often enough to know the signs. "You've been sick."

Nate looked away a moment before pulling a mask of calm defiance down to hide his turbulent emotions. "Yeah, I must've eaten something that didn't agree with me."

Eliot just stared at him moment before deciding to let him hide behind the lie. This was something Nathan needed to work through on his own. Nate was going to have to learn that he couldn't control everything. He tried to smile, to play along. "You eat some of that chicken-fried steak that's been haunting Sophie everywhere she goes?"

Nathan tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow and weak. "Yeah, must have." Quiet descended on the room for a moment before he cleared his throat. "Don't think I didn't notice what you're doing. Quit dodging my question. The left side of your face looks really bad, Eliot. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Nate. I told ya, this wasn't necessary. I just need to rest up a little." Eliot stared up at his lover through his one good eye. He was more worried about Nathan than he was himself. Hospitals were hard on Nate, and he'd been stressing about him getting hurt. Nate had even stepped in front of him to block that asshole Tank. Eliot tried to scowl through his bruised face. Tank would've flattened Nathan. He needed to get Nate to back off somehow. A relationship between them wouldn't work if it meant that Nate couldn't relax and let him do his job.

Nathan stared down at the man in the bed and chewed at his bottom lip. He squeezed his hand one more time and then let go, taking the hat off his head to run his hand through his hair. It was obvious the man was in pain. Why the hell did Eliot have to be so damn reticent to let anyone take care of him?

That crease had appeared between Nate's eyes and Eliot could tell what was going through his head. The only time Nate was predictable was when it came to assigning blame. He was stingy; he liked to claim it all for himself. Eliot sighed and pushed himself up in the bed. "This wasn't your fault, Nate. You need to get that idea out of your head right now."

Nathan shook his head and walked further from the bed, as if by getting some distance from the other man he could deny what was being said.

Eliot closed his eye and took a deep breath. "Nate, I mean it. It was my decision to step into that ring."

Nate turned to answer but Dr. Wertheim came through the door.

"Well, Mr. Spencer, your head's not as hard as you think it is." He smiled at the two men. "Based on your symptoms and the scan results it appears you have a grade 2 concussion."

Nathan stepped forward, frown firmly in place. "Grade 2, what does that mean exactly?"

Dr. Wertheim smiled and tried to ease some of the man's obvious anxiety. "It's a step up from grade 1, but there was no loss of consciousness. He's going to feel bad for a while and shouldn't do anything strenuous for a week or so, but there's no bleeding and he is oriented."

Nathan opened his mouth to ask another question, but Eliot broke in. "It means I'm fine." He turned to the doctor. "Thanks for the work up. I appreciate it."

The doctor grabbed a stool and sat down. "Not a problem. I'm real thankful to you guys helping out with my cousins." He removed a few papers from the file in his hand. "I'm going to let you go back to the hotel provided somebody can watch over you tonight."

Eliot sat up, wincing and grasping the rails of the bed as the room spun.

Nathan stepped forward and put a hand on Eliot's shoulder, watching what little color was in his face drain out. "Are you sure he doesn't need to stay overnight or something?"

Eliot glared up at Nathan. "I'm fine, Nate."

The doctor watched the two of them. He may not have been from a big city, but he wasn't stupid. He knew love when he saw it. And if those two thought they were hiding anything they had a hell of a shock coming. He cleared his throat and tried not to smile. "As long as someone can watch over him and wake him up to make sure he's okay there shouldn't be any problem with releasing him tonight."

Nathan and Eliot stared at each other a moment longer before Nathan turned back to the doctor. "That won't be a problem."

The doctor nodded, a small smile playing around his lips. "Here is a sheet of instructions. He's dizzy and nauseous right now. There are a few things to watch out for listed there. He may have problems with depression or sleep disturbances. That's normal. Just keep a close eye on them. Now if he develops slurred speech or any change of consciousness, becomes confused or goes to sleep and you can't wake him, you bring him back here immediately."

Nathan nodded as he read over the sheet, filing each thing away in his memory so he wouldn't have to refer back to it and waste precious time if he noticed one of the symptoms developing in Eliot.

"Eliot, your shoulder is bruised, but nothing is torn and it's not dislocated. Put some ice on it, and on your face. If you have vision difficulties out of that eye after the swelling goes down get yourself to an ophthalmologist."

Eliot nodded slightly and swallowed. "Not a problem." He turned to Nate and motioned at his clothes with his right arm. "Nate, hand me my stuff."

Dr. Wertheim stood off the stool and approached both men to shake their hands. "I just want to thank you guys again. We really appreciate your help."

Nathan nodded, distractedly, still looking over the page. "What about medication? What should we give him for the pain?"

"Nate . . ."

Nathan glared at Eliot. "You might be well versed in this stuff, but I'm not."

Dr. Wertheim looked between the two men and raised an eyebrow. "Just acetaminophen. No aspirin or ibuprofen, nothing that might thin the blood and cause bleeding."

Eliot shook the doctor's hand and then started working on getting his clothes on.

"I'll send in a wheelchair in a few moments to take you out to the car. Mr. Ford, if you want to bring the car around, I'll have a nurse bring him out."

Nathan nodded. "Yeah, I'll just help him into his clothes." He glanced up at the doctor. "Make sure he doesn't fall."

Dr. Wertheim couldn't help it this time. They were trying so hard to hide it and it was so obvious. He gave them both a pointed look. "Just remember, no strenuous activity for at least a week."

Eliot watched as Dr. Wertheim left the room before he glared at Nathan, cheeks burning at the innuendo in the doctor's voice. "Nate, I'm okay. You need to calm down a little."

Nathan gripped Eliot as he started to topple forward when he bent down to grab his pants in order to pull them up. "Yeah, you're fine. You can't even stand up straight."

Eliot slowly finished pulling his jeans up and took a deep breath. "It isn't like this is the first concussion I've ever had, Nate."

Nathan stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? First you're getting shot and now this!"

Eliot paused with the shirt half over his head before he jerked it down over his chest. "I didn't get shot, Nate! Try to remember that okay? In the grand scheme of things this ain't bad. I'm going to be fine." He watched as Nate rubbed at his stomach. "I'm more worried about what you're doing to yourself getting all wound up this way."

There was a knock at the door and a nurse in purple scrubs came wheeling a chair in. "Are we all set?"

Eliot and Nate stared at each other for a moment longer before Eliot turned and nodded at the nurse. "Sure thing, darlin'."

Nathan rubbed at his brow before dropping his hand to his side. "I'll go get the car."

* * *

The ride back to the hotel was quiet. They'd moved to a new motel a town over, close enough to finish their business, but far enough away should someone come looking for them. Eliot kept his eyes open and focused forward, trying to minimize the dizziness and nausea. It had been a long time since he'd taken a beating this bad. He was good at what he did. As a result, he was usually the one dealing out most of the pain. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have his bell rung so thoroughly.

He didn't dare glance at Nate sitting in the seat next to him for fear of making the dizziness worse, but he could feel him brooding. The worry and hypervigilance about Eliot's safety was new and unwelcome. Nate was trying to control things that just couldn't be controlled and Eliot was afraid it was going to lead to trouble.

Nathan found a parking place close to the doors and hurried around to help Eliot out of the car.

Eliot was tempted to shake the other man off, but as soon as he was on his feet the world tilted and he found himself clutching tighter. "Fuck."

"I got you. You need to sit back down?" Nathan had a hand around Eliot's back, hand under his elbow.

"Nah, I'm alright. Just give me a second." Eliot took a deep breath and waited a moment until the ground turned solid once again. He pulled out of Nathan's grasp and started toward the door.

Nathan hovered, not quite touching, but ready to catch in case he should lose his balance again. He looked up as the door opened and Sophie beckoned them inside.

"Wow, you look really awful, Eliot."

Eliot sighed. "Thank you, Sophie."

Sophie decided to ignore the hitter's sarcasm and turned to Nate. "What did the doctor say?"

"It's nothing."

"It's a concussion."

The two men glared at each other for a minute before Eliot sighed. "It's a minor concussion. Nothing to worry about."

"A concussion is nothing to mess with, Eliot. I got one in Finland once. Couldn't remember a thing for days." Sophie turned worried eyes to Nate. "What did the doctor say to do?"

"He needs to rest. Nothing strenuous for a week. We'll finish the wrap up either tomorrow or the next day. Depending on how he's doing and then head back home."

When they entered Nathan's suite, Parker was watching TV and eating another bag of pork rinds while Hardison was watching Parker.

Hardison looked up when the door opened and let out a low whistle. "Man, if you're face looks this messed up tonight think about what it's going to look like tomorrow."

Eliot growled and stepped forward. "Keep at it, Hardison, and I'll have Parker punch you again."

Nate put a hand on Eliot's shoulder, restraining him from going after the hacker. After Hardison had walked in on them there'd been a lot more tension between them. In fact, Nate was pretty sure that the whole demonstration of MMA fighting between Parker and Hardison had been less for Sophie's benefit and more about payback.

Parker crunched on a pork rind and raised her eyebrows. "That looks like it hurts. Does it hurt?"

Eliot rolled his good eye and settled down onto the couch next to her. "Yeah, Parker, it hurts."

She reached out as if she was going to touch it and Eliot leaned back. "Don't do that."

Parker dropped her hand but didn't stop staring at him.

Eliot tried to keep his eye on her and relax back into the cushions at the same time. With Parker you never really knew what she was going to get into her head to do.

Nathan rubbed at his face and rolled his neck, trying to work out some of the tension. "I was just telling Sophie that we'll finish wrap up on this job tomorrow or the next depending on how things go. Hardison, if you can finish getting the gym and everything set up in the Howorth's name that would be great."

"Yeah, man. Sure thing."

Nathan looked around, but none of the team looked like they were ready to go anywhere. "I think we need to let Eliot get some rest. We'll see how things are tomorrow and then take it from there.

Parker and Hardison both stood and started toward the door. Eliot stayed where he was on the couch and Sophie hung back.

"So he's going to stay here then?"

Nathan cocked his head. "Yeah. He needs to be woken up every so often and someone needs to make sure his symptoms don't worsen."

Sophie studied him for a moment. "And that has to be you, does it?" She stepped closer. "I was hoping we'd get a chance to talk."

Nathan's brow knit down over his eyes and he looked confused. "About what?"

Sophie stared at him a moment before blinking and looking away. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about . . ."

"Oh, that!" He waved her off. "Don't. Really. It's fine. I'm, uh, I'm glad you're happy."

Sophie nodded and played with the edge of the counter. "Yes, but I'm worried . . ." She trailed off, acutely aware of Eliot on the couch behind Nathan. "Look, let's have Hardison come over and keep an eye on him and we'll grab a bite to eat and talk. I haven't had a decent meal since we got here and I'm really worried about you being alone."

Nathan rubbed at his forehead and sighed. "I'm staying with him. Sophie, we're, I'm . . ." He cut off, biting down on his bottom lip. He could feel Eliot's stare boiling through his back, could feel him waiting. But he couldn't do it. He took a deep breath. "I'm head of this team. It's my responsibility."

Sophie looked at him a moment before finally nodding and backing off. "Well, call me if you need me. I'll be just down the hall."

Nathan watched as she closed the door behind her and then turned back to Eliot. "Here, let's get you in bed so you can rest."

Eliot glared at him from the couch, his one good eye a mix of anger and hurt. "You just couldn't do it, could you?" He sat forward. "What are you afraid of, Nate? I thought you'd gotten over being ashamed. You say it's not because you have feelings for her, so what is it?"

Nathan bit his bottom lip again and wished for a cup of coffee. "I'm not ashamed, Eliot. Now's just not the time."

Eliot pushed himself up off the couch and ignored the room as it tilted a little. "Yeah? When will be?" He started for the bedroom, pushing Nathan's hands away.

* * *

In the bedroom Nathan kept an eye on Eliot as he pulled off his clothes before crawling into bed. The other man hadn't looked at him and certainly hadn't spoken to him since he'd left the living room. Nathan figured it was probably smart to let him cool down before he tried approaching him about painkillers or any other needs. If he tried to do that now Eliot would just get more upset.

Once Eliot was in bed, Nate pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a tee before flipping on the bedside lamp and turning off the overhead. He grabbed the Sartre novel he was reading and sat down in the armchair.

Nathan tried to ignore the tense atmosphere and concentrate on his novel. He didn't want to get Eliot anymore upset than he already was. The last thing the hitter needed was to raise his blood pressure because of a stupid argument. Nate would tell Sophie, but doing it while Eliot was so exhausted and needed him was not the right time.

Eliot laid with his back to Nathan, acutely aware of the man sitting next to the bed, the rustle of turning pages loud in the silent room. Why did things between them have to be so difficult? He sighed and turned over on his back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "You don't have to sit up by the bed all night, Nate. I don't sleep that much anyway. If you feel like you have to check on me every so often set an alarm."

Nate stood from the chair and ran a hand across the back of his neck. He wanted nothing more than to gather Eliot up in his arms, to hold him tight and reassure himself that he was still okay. But he was so tired. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, worrying about the fight, and the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on was threatening to overwhelm him. If he lay down he just knew he'd fall asleep. And as tired as he was, an alarm probably wouldn't wake him up.

"I'm not that sleepy." He paced around the bed before turning and heading toward the door. "I'm going to get you some Tylenol and ice. Is there anything else you want?"

"No." Eliot sighed but didn't bother arguing. Nate was in mother hen mode, worrying himself sick, and nothing he did or said was going to make it better.

He lay in the bed and closed his eyes, trying not to worry too much over the man currently banging around in the kitchenette. Eliot licked his dry lips and tried to shut out all the pain he could, somehow the physical was easier than the emotional.

In the kitchen, Nathan grabbed the Tylenol and found one of the plastic bags meant for dirty clothes to put some ice in. Wrapping a towel around the ice, he grabbed a bottle of water.

Back in the bedroom he nudged Eliot over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He watched as Eliot swallowed three pills and put the ice to the left side of his face, trying not to wince in sympathy.

When Eliot was settled back down Nathan stood and flipped off the bedside lamp, he was too keyed up right now to read anyway. "Try and get a little rest. I'll be right outside if you need me."

Eliot grunted as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Nate, seriously, just come to bed. I know you're tired."

Nathan stood in the door, backlit from the living room. He shook his head, the specter of Sam beating against his brain. He needed . . . There was too much he needed right now. Alcohol wasn't even at the top of the list. "I can't relax right now. I'll come to bed in a little bit."

He left the door cracked a little behind him so the light wouldn't bother Eliot but he would still be able to hear him if he called out. He found the complimentary coffee and started brewing himself a pot. There was no need for him to try and relax. Every muscle in his body was corded tight, the tension chewing on the inside of his stomach.

He waited for the coffee to brew and tried to reason out what had happened. The con had been a success. They'd really managed to pull the fat from the fire that time.

There was nothing that could've been done to keep this from happening. It was like Hardison said, you couldn't hack a hick. But, he still felt that somehow, this job had slipped out of his control, like he hadn't been vigilant enough, prepared enough. If he'd done his job correctly Eliot would've never had to get into the ring.

Yeah, they'd managed to take down Rucker. They were damn good at what they did. But look at the price. He had to do better than this.

* * *

Nathan was sitting, staring at the man in the bed. He'd paced the suite all night, until he just couldn't stay away any longer. He kept to the edge of the seat, afraid to lean back in case he dozed off. It was going on four in the morning and Eliot was still sleeping on and off. He would've been worried, but each time he woke him Eliot was oriented and his speech wasn't slurred. So he tried not to let the unusualness of Eliot's soft snores worry him too much.

Nathan stood and made his way back to the kitchenette, blinking at the light from the living room. He emptied the last of the latest pot of coffee into his cup and sighed as he stared at the empty packs. He'd already called down for more coffee once. He didn't really want to have to do it again.

He flicked off the coffee maker and started to take a sip.

"Son of a bitch! Shannon!"

Nathan jumped, losing his grip on his coffee mug and spilling it down the front of his shirt as Eliot's unexpected shout from the bedroom rocketed through the suite.

He paid no attention to the pain of the hot liquid as it soaked into his tee, in too much of a hurry to get to the bedroom. "Eliot!"

Eliot was sitting up in the bed, gasping, sweat along his brow and matting his hair to his head and sticking long chestnut strands to the side of his face.

Nathan, not thinking, only reacting to the distress of his lover, reached out and put a hand on Eliot's shoulder.

In an instant Eliot reached up and grabbed Nathan's hand, twisting it as he pried it off his shoulder. Nathan grunted, breath hissing out between his teeth. Too late he realized his mistake. It took him a minute to realize exactly what he'd done wrong. "Eliot, it's Nate. Let go."

Eliot increased the pressure on Nathan's arm and a noise like nothing Nathan had ever heard rumbled out of his chest. It was something between a whine and a sob with the low growling bass of Eliot's anger behind it. It suddenly occurred to him that he might really be in trouble here.

Nathan let go of the arm twisting his wrist and tried to minimize the contact between them. He winced as Eliot's fingertips dug into his joint, his breath coming in small pants. "Eliot, I need you to listen to me. This is Nathan Ford, we're in Nebraska with the rest of the team." There was no recognition and Nate felt his eyes start to water as the pain started to radiate up his arm from his wrist. "Eliot . . ." He gasped. "Wake up. Please, you're hurting me."

Eliot glared at him through his good blue eye, lips twisted in menace, breath huffing from his nose. The hand around Nathan's wrist was clammy and cold despite the heat coming off the rest of his body.

Nathan's knees started to buckle, he could feel the joints in his wrist start to pop, when the pressure suddenly released and his arm dropped, numb, to the surface of the bed. Nathan closed his eyes and dropped the rest of the way to his knees, forehead to the bed.

He looked up to see Eliot staring at him, his good eye wide as he stared at Nathan. The next thing he knew his lover was off the bed and in the bathroom, door slamming shut behind him. Nathan made his legs hold him up, despite the shaking; arm cradled to his chest, and made his way to the bathroom. He knocked but there was no answer. "Eliot?"

The door handle wouldn't turn and Nate cursed. "Eliot!" In frustration, he banged on the door with his bad hand and groaned, cradling it back to his chest. He paced back to the bed and then back to the bathroom. "Eliot, I need you to answer me!" He heard the sound of the shower turn on and he banged on the door with his good hand. "Eliot!"

Eliot's voice was low, like thunder rolling through the sky, sharp like the static of electricity that made your hair stand up on end. "Nate, back off. Just . . . man, just give me some time."

Nate stood on the other side of the door, head resting against the cool surface. Eliot's voice sounded hollow echoing around the bathroom, the tiles making it bounce so that even through the door it sounded disjointed. "Eliot . . ." He licked his lips. "Just don't get in the shower okay. You're too dizzy. I don't want to have to worry about you falling."

There was silence and then a grunt which could've been an agreement or another way to tell him to go to hell. But the water turned off and Nathan let out a pent up breath.

* * *

It was forty five minutes before Eliot came out of the bathroom. During that time it took every ounce of Nathan's willpower not to barge in on him. Then, not to go to the mini bar in the living room and help himself because, damnit! If it had been him, Eliot would've had the door off the hinges within five minutes and hauled his ass out of there. There was a double standard here and he wasn't at all happy about it. He'd knocked a couple times, just to be sure, but he'd only received a low growl in response. He was tempted to bust in anyway.

Instead, he sat on the floor across from the bathroom door, back against the wall, hardly daring to breathe. He listened for any sound that might come from the inside the restroom, but for the most part it remained quiet. A couple of times he thought he heard movement, but both times it had been so quiet he wasn't sure that it wasn't just wishful thinking.

When the door finally opened he stood up off the floor, eyes glued to the man who exited. Eliot's hair was wet around his face and his good eye was bloodshot. But his face was dry and his voice steady when he spoke.

"Did I hurt you?"

Nathan stepped forward, good hand automatically going out to comfort his lover, but Eliot stepped back.

"Please, Nate, don't crowd me right now."

Nathan stepped back and took a deep breath, frustration fueling his next words. "I see, so it's okay for you to hover over me, take care of me when I couldn't take care of myself, but I try to show you a little concern and it's hands off? Is that it?"

Eliot looked away, mouth opening to answer, but Nathan stopped him.

"No. I'm sorry, Eliot. I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." He ran his good hand through his hair. He couldn't afford to stress Eliot out right now. "Okay, just tell me what you need."

Eliot studied the other man and then took a long breath, trying to release the tension still knotting up his shoulders. "I could use a little water."

Nathan nodded and went to the kitchenette and grabbed one of the bottled waters. When he came back in, Eliot was sitting on the bed, back up against the headboard and eyes closed.

Nathan cleared his throat before approaching and handed the water to Eliot; keeping his injured wrist tucked into the loose pocket of the sweats he wore to minimize the chance that Eliot would see it.

Eliot took the water and uncapped it, taking a deep draught. He studied the other man over the bottle, eye raking him for damage. "Where did I hurt you?" He narrowed his eye as he studied the black tee Nathan had on. "Why is your shirt all wet?"

Nathan looked down at the tee shirt, having completely forgotten he'd spilled coffee all over himself. Now that it was brought to his attention the material was wet and uncomfortable against his slightly burnt skin. He grimaced and pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it into the open door of the bathroom.

When Eliot hissed he turned back around following Eliot's stare to his wrist. "It's nothing, Eliot."

Eliot took Nate's arm before he could move it out of his reach. The wrist was turning purple in a distinct hand-shaped pattern. You could actually see where Eliot's fingers had dug into Nate's skin. It was swelling and there was a good deal of heat coming off of it. "It's not nothing, Nate. You could have some broken bones."

Nathan gently pulled his arm away from Eliot. His wrist pounded with the increased blood flow when he lowered his arm, but he could move the wrist. It wasn't broken. "It's fine, really. I'll put some ice on it in a minute." He was quiet, studying the other man. "Must've been some dream."

Eliot leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes as he swallowed. "Don't ever touch me if I'm dreaming, Nate. Not even if it looks like I'm awake. Make sure I'm talking to ya before you ever lay a hand on me."

Nathan nodded. He knew this. But Eliot slept so little he rarely dreamt. And in their relationship he'd gotten complacent and forgotten how Eliot might react to his touch. "It's okay. It was my fault."

Eliot stared at him a moment, pushing his self-recrimination aside. It wouldn't do them any good. Right now he was more concerned about the fallout. "Seriously, Nate, we need to get that wrist looked at. You don't want to mess around with damage to a joint like that."

Nathan ignored him, determined not to let Eliot turn this around on him, and stood. He made his way to the other side of the bed and crawled in, close but not touching the other man. "Is that why you don't sleep much? The dreams?"

Eliot had to turn his head to look at him, he couldn't see through his periphery with his eye all swollen up. He wanted to be angry at Nate for brushing off his concern, but they'd been down this road before, and some things just didn't change. "Nah. I trained myself a long time ago so I wouldn't have to sleep much. Nightmares sometimes accompany concussions. That's all it was."

Nathan was silent a moment. "You called out for your sister, Eliot. It wasn't nothing."

Eliot was quiet, looking away. "I don't really feel like talking about it, Nate."

Nathan studied him a minute more before climbing back up out of the bed and running a hand through his hair. "How's your stomach? You didn't eat anything for dinner. Do you think you could eat something now?"

Eliot studied him, frowning at the way Nathan was pacing around the room, nervous energy radiating off him in waves of heat. "Man, how much coffee have you had?"

"What?" Nate turned on him, biting his bottom lip.

Eliot stared at him a minute, trying to push back the little voice in his head that said this wasn't good. Things were fine. Their relationship was just experiencing some growing pains. It was going to take Nate time to learn to deal with his emotions without the alcohol. "Nate, come over here and sit down." He patted the bed next to him.

Nathan shook his head and ran a hand through his hair again. "No. I'll just keep you awake. You need to rest. I'm going to go into the living room so I don't disturb you." He started for the door.

Eliot sat up, face creased in incredulity. "Really? You're going to make me follow you into the living room?"

Nathan turned around, rubbing at his brow. "Eliot, I just need . . . I don't want to . . ."

"You don't want to what? To keep me awake? To let me any closer? What is it you don't want to do, Nate?"

Eliot looked at the clock and realized it would be dawn soon. He frowned, unhappy with what he was seeing. "You haven't had any sleep. You can't keep doing this to yourself, Nate."

Nate took a step back into the room, body stiff, trying to control the anger. He'd reached his limit. "Eliot! You can't keep making this about me. I'm not the one who got his face punched in." He started pacing at the foot of the bed.

"I am fine." He glared at Eliot. "And if I had pulled that stunt with the bathroom you'd have handed me my ass." He stopped pacing to point an accusing finger at Eliot. "You want to talk about not letting someone close? You can't expect me to talk to you and then shut yourself down. It doesn't work like that, Eliot."

Eliot sat there in the bed, quiet, as he listened to Nathan rant.

Nathan stepped up to the side of the bed and stared down at Eliot. "You know, I could con you into letting me take care of you. I could. But I'm not going to, because partners shouldn't have to do that, Eliot. People who care for one another shouldn't have to do that."

Eliot licked his swollen lip and tried to keep from shouting. His head was still pounding and raising his voice would only make it worse. "It's not something I feel like talking about, Nate. It's not something I can get into right now."

Nathan stared at him, working his jaw to try and release some of the tension, then grabbed the bottle of Tylenol off of the dresser and tossed it onto the bed next to Eliot. "Quit trying to hide the headache Eliot. I can tell by the way you're squinting. Take the damn Tylenol."

Eliot watched as Nate came around the bed and slid in between the covers.

Nathan waited until he heard Eliot set the glass of water back down on the bedside table and then clicked the lamp off. He didn't have to be afraid of falling asleep now. He was way too angry.

"Nate . . ."

Nathan sighed but didn't turn over. "Unless you're going to talk to me and let me help you, I don't want to hear it." He paused. "I need a little sleep before the others come banging down our door." The lie rolled off his tongue easily.

The silence stretched out between them and Nate kept his back turned toward the other side of the bed.

* * *

The team trudged into Nate's apartment, tired, but glad to be back in Boston. They'd handed the gym over to the Howorth's earlier that morning and then caught their flight that afternoon. Nate had wanted to wait, unsure if Eliot's concussion would make it painful for him to fly. But Eliot wouldn't hear anything of it and the tension was obvious between them.

Sophie was the first to excuse herself, stating she had an evening planned with her boyfriend. Parker was helping herself to their cereal, and Hardison had his laptop hooked up to the monitors.

Eliot had plopped down on the couch as soon as they'd come into the apartment. Despite his reassurances, the plane ride had been difficult for him. The increased cabin pressure had made his head hurt, and he'd had a hard time popping his ears to release the pressure.

Worse though, was Nate's anger at him. They'd had their fair share of spats, but this was the first time that he felt Nathan might be just a tad bit justified in his anger. He needed to find a way to fix this before bad things started to happen. He was afraid that if they didn't resolve this it would give Nate an excuse to either push him out or to start drinking again.

He felt the couch dip next to him and heard crunching, knew that Parker had sat down beside him. He sighed and picked up his head, looking around for his lover.

Hardison bit his lip and stopped tapping on the keys of his laptop. The tension between Nate and Eliot was obvious and it only spelled trouble for the rest of the team. But more than that, Eliot and Nate were family. Growing up in foster homes he'd seen his share of arguments and violence. He'd seen it rip families apart. And as dysfunctional as this one could be at times, it was the closest he'd ever had to a true family. He didn't want to see shit like that go down.

He eyed the way Eliot was looking around. The very fact that things were bad enough that Eliot didn't know exactly where Nate was, it made him extremely nervous, made him feel like he was going to have to pack his meager belongings in a trash bag and move to another home. But he wasn't a little kid this time. Now he was an adult, and he had a right to know what was going on in his family. "What's going on between you and Nate, man?"

Eliot scowled at him and opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by Parker.

"Nate's angry because he thinks Eliot's being unfair about his inability to let someone take care of him." She stared at the hitter. "He's right." She shrugged. "But I get it."

Eliot's scowl deepened as he stared at the blonde. How the hell . . . "Were you in an air duct listening to us last night?"

She shook her head and munched on another spoonful of cereal.

Eliot pushed himself up and swiped at the hair falling into his face, still trying to figure out how she could be semi-psychotic or fully sociopathic one minute, and then so damn insightful the next. "Who are you?"

Parker looked at him with wide eyes before turning to Hardison and dropping her voice as if it would keep Eliot from overhearing her. "His concussion's gotten worse. He doesn't know who I am."

Hardison opened his mouth to explain, but Eliot grunted in irritation and pushed out from between them. "Did Nate go up to the bedroom?"

Hardison looked up at the hitter distractedly, still preoccupied with trying to figure Parker out. "Nah, man, he went downstairs."

"To the bar?" Eliot started to shake his head and then winced as it caused the pain to flare. "Unbelievable." He grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

Hardison turned back to Parker and watched as she slurped the milk from her bowl. "How'd you know that about Nate and Eliot?"

She shrugged. "It's obvious."

* * *

Eliot stepped into the bar and looked around. He ignored the silence that descended on the tables around the entrance and the sideways glances at his face. In a back booth he saw a familiar head of shaggy black curls. He set his shoulders and made his way through the busy evening crowd and slid into the booth across from Nathan.

Nathan stared at him over the rim of his coffee cup, before dropping his eyes and taking a sip.

Eliot gave an unpleasant smirk, feeling the motion pull on the swelling in his face. "What ya drinking, Nate?"

Nathan set the cup down on the table and coughed. "Coffee. Want some?"

Eliot reached across the table and grabbed Nathan's cup, taking a small sip. It was black and strong, but it was just coffee. He put the cup down in the middle of the table, relieved, and watched Nathan as he watched the other patrons of the bar. He sighed and tried to focus through the pounding in his head. "What are you doing sitting down here by yourself?"

Nathan didn't turn to look at him. He kept his eyes on the people drinking their beer and shooting darts. "I, uh, needed a good place to think."

Eliot snorted. "The bar is a good place to think?" He was quiet a moment, watching the way Nate's eyes focused on a guy at the bar bringing a drink to his lips. He sighed. "You know, preoccupation is . . ."

Nathan turned back on him, face strained and blue eyes glinting with anger. "Yeah, I know, Eliot." He turned away and laughed a little. "You're still doing it."

Eliot frowned and lightly kicked Nathan's leg under the table to get his attention back on him and off the alcohol around him. "Doing what?"

Nathan turned around and sighed, slumping back in the red leather of the booths. "You're still trying to make this about me, Eliot. This isn't about me. It's about you and your stubborn refusal to let anyone else take care of you."

Eliot leaned across the table, dropping his voice. "Tell me you weren't freaked out last night, Nate. That being at the hospital and worrying about me wasn't tearing you up."

Nathan cocked his head to the left a little and spoke very quietly. "And tell me that you weren't hurting last night. Tell me that the nightmare didn't shake you up enough that you had to lock yourself in a bathroom for forty five minutes to calm down. Tell me that getting on the plane this afternoon and flying back here didn't make the pain and dizziness worse!" He broke off and looked around to see if anyone had noticed his raised voice.

This time it was Eliot who looked away and Nathan sighed, taking another sip of his coffee. "If you came down here to check and make sure that I'm not drinking you don't have to worry. But I would like a little time alone, to think."

Eliot looked at him a minute before nodding. "Fine. I'll be upstairs when you decide you're done thinking." Eliot sat a moment longer before nodding again and getting up. He turned at the door to look back at Nathan but his attention was on the other people in the bar. He headed back upstairs.

* * *

When Nathan returned to the apartment Hardison and Parker were nowhere to be found. Eliot was stretched on the sofa, ice pack on his face, and football on TV.

He'd started back up with his head in a much better place, feeling much more calm. He had to stop worrying so much about Eliot. He'd be there for him, he'd listen, but he wasn't going to push the man. At least not as his lover. He was shutting that part of himself down a little. He just couldn't deal with it.

He sat down in the armchair next to Eliot's head and watched the screen for a minute. "Who's winning?"

Eliot turned away from the game and studied Nathan. A quiet certainty seemed to have descended over him, but it wasn't peaceful. Underneath, tension was coiled, ready to burst. It was like Nathan was a glass, and the turbulence had reached the brim to the point that the only thing keeping it from spilling over was the surface tension. "Dallas." He let out a breath as he sat up, uncomfortable lying down like that while Nathan was thrumming beside him.

Nathan didn't look at him, kept his eyes on the game although Eliot knew that neither Dallas nor Green Bay were Nathan's favorite team. He watched it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Nate, listen man, I'm sorry if I upset you. There are just some things I can't talk about."

Nate turned to him, neck muscles stiff from all the tension they were holding in. "Have you had any Tylenol?"

Eliot sighed, but shook his head.

Nathan stood from the chair and grabbed the Tylenol and a glass of water from the kitchen before coming back to hand them both to Eliot. He waited until the other man had taken them. "Eliot, you don't want me to worry about you, fine. I can't promise I won't, but I'll quit expecting you to let me help. However, you are a member of this team. I expect you to take care of yourself, and if I think you need to be looked over more thoroughly you will. Understood?"

Eliot looked at him a moment, brow creasing even though it pulled on his bruised face. "Nate . . ."

Nathan shook his head and smiled a little. "It's fine, Eliot." He stood a moment more, looking at the floor. "I'm going to get ready for bed. Are you coming up?"

Eliot felt something in him tighten a little. Nate was pulling away again. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'll be up in a minute."

He turned and watched as Nathan made his way up the circular staircase and closed his eyes. The only way he could see to fix this was to come clean to Nate, and he wasn't sure he could do that.

*The End*


End file.
